Miflin P.O.V.
Damnable guy, making me wait two hours in this dreadful place by myself, despite all my power and the barrier I erected around us I couldn’t help but shiver any time I looked into that soul.
The first time I came here I just spent a few minutes trying to study that incredibly insidious curse, but after giving Elias a bit of a reprieve, his soul seemed to start awakening, for lack of a better term, and it was considering me an outsider, of course I was, but then, I was the one trying to help it too. The point was that our essences were too much in contradiction with one another.
But I had to say that this was the most interesting thing that had happened to me in a looong time, and I won’t squander it.
Now… how to better approach this?
“I will explain as if to someone who doesn’t have any idea about what I’m talking about, because you don’t, you’re smashing rocks together trying to create a spark, with no idea how fire really works, so abandon any notion you believe you know about aura.”
He nodded, his aura was so steeped in curses that I could see traces of them in his own vessel, floating around, he created a decent body for a first attempt, despite his nakedness, I would have to teach him to conjure clothes, it was a poor showing to go around like this, if any of my brothers or sisters saw my disciple going around without garments… oh the shame.
“The first mistake people make,” I said, “is believing that aura is power.”
His attention sharpened immediately.
“It is not,” I continued. “Power is merely one consequence of aura. Heat is not flame. Light is not the sun. And aura is something more than just a tool.”
He frowned faintly. “Then what is it?”
For a moment, I simply looked at him.
There were many ways to answer that question. Scholars spent entire lifetimes attempting to define aura through measurements, classifications, and equations. Aura cultivators buried themselves in doctrine and philosophy searching for language grand enough to describe it.
Most of them failed because they tried to explain aura as though it were separate from existence instead of intertwined with it.
“Aura,” I said softly, “is the motion of the soul.”
He stayed silent, listening carefully.
That alone already placed him ahead of many others.
“The soul is not still,” I continued. “It is alive. It remembers, desires, fears, adapts. Even in silence, even in sleep, it remains in motion. And wherever the soul moves, aura is produced. Mind you, the soul is you, but you are not entirely the soul, not when you can’t remember your past lives. But that is another matter entirely.”
I raised my hand and manifested three spheres of light between us from my own body.
One silver, another crimson, and the last white.
“The soul provides identity,” I said, gesturing toward the silver sphere. “Without identity, aura would possess no nature. No distinction. Every aura would feel the same.”
The crimson sphere pulsed next.
“The body provides vitality. Aura requires life as its vessel. Even the strongest soul cannot manifest within dead flesh, that’s why even my people require a body, if we tried to roam around as mere souls, we would succumb sooner than you think.”
Finally, the white sphere brightened.
“And last, will provides direction.”
The three spheres began orbiting one another.
“The interaction of these three forces creates aura naturally. Not consciously. It emerges as breath emerges from your lungs.”
The lights collided gently, releasing ripples through the air and becoming one single whole, the same colour as my body.
“Aura is the soul pressing against reality through the medium of life.”
I watched the realization settle behind his eyes.
He was beginning to perceive the distinction.
Most novice users viewed aura as energy stored within the body, something akin to fuel waiting to be consumed. That understanding was incomplete to the point of being dangerous. Aura was not merely stored power.
It was expression. Of oneself, of one soul.
“So every living thing possesses aura,” he said slowly.
“Every living thing with a soul possesses an aura,” I replied.
I extended my senses outward briefly, touching the countless tiny spiritual signatures that existed beyond his soul-space.
“A rabbit possesses aura. A bird possesses aura. Trees do not possess even traces of spirituality, with some really rare exceptions.”
His brow furrowed slightly as he processed that.
Fleshy beings liked categories. They preferred clear lines dividing the mystical from the mundane. Reality rarely cared for such distinctions.
“Most beings release aura unconsciously,” I explained. “Emotion agitates the soul. Fear, rage, desire, grief, instinct, all of these can influence it.”
I allowed my own aura to expand slightly.
Immediately, pressure filled the soul-space.
Not enough to harm him. Only enough for demonstration.
His body tensed instinctively.
“Fear,” I said.
I increased the density, transforming the pressure into something more predatory.
“Killing intent.”
Then I flipped my intention upside down and the atmosphere changed completely.
“Peace.”
He exhaled slowly, only then realizing he had stopped breathing despite not requiring any in this form.
I almost smiled. I think…
“Strong emotions alter aura flow,” I continued. “Weak aura users leak those changes involuntarily. Skilled users weaponize them.”
“But aura reacts to emotions,” he said.
“No.” I corrected him immediately. “Aura reacts to the soul. Emotion is merely one expression of the soul’s movement.”
That distinction carried far more weight than he yet understood.
I moved closer and rested my hand lightly against the center of his chest, feeling the rhythm of his aura move beneath my palm.
“This is why aura cannot truly lie.”
Confusion flickered across his face.
I expected that.
“Words are surface-level things,” I explained. “Aura exists beneath language. Someone may conceal intent, alter behavior, even suppress expression, but the nature of their soul still shapes their aura.”
Cruel individuals developed violent aura patterns.
Cowards produced unstable fluctuations.
Obsessive minds created distorted circulation.
And broken souls carried fragmented currents.
A particular kind of hollow resonance, like listening to a song with half the notes missing.
“At advanced levels,” I continued calmly, “aura reveals far more than physical presence. Intent. Instability. Potential. Sometimes memory echoes.”
He needed to understand why powerful aura masters inspired instinctive caution even before acting.
“The second great misunderstanding,” I said, stepping away from him, “is believing aura exists only within the body. But you already know that, you skipped many steps by some miracle, so this will not sound as abstract to you.”
I swept my hand outward.
His soul-space rippled in response.
“The soul does not end neatly at the flesh. It overlaps reality. External aura manipulation is simply the evidence of that overlap, and the reason why it is so difficult to achieve for most, especially at low levels. The stronger a soul becomes, the greater its influence upon the world around it. Weak users can barely manage to leak traces of their aura into the surroundings. Strong users impose themselves upon reality.”
“While internal manipulation teaches control over the self,” I said. “External manipulation teaches control over expression. But true mastery requires understanding what aura truly is.”
He was frowning at me, still confused, of course he was, to him it was as incomprehensible as nuclear fission was to a child.
“Then what is it… master.” I could detect that he hated it, but some traditions were there for a reason. And I enjoyed it, mainly the latter.
I refocused, this was important, as it was explained to me all of those years ago, when I was but a mere initiate, these words were spoken by my father and until now they had accompanied me all the way here.
“Aura is a declaration of existence,” I told him softly.
That was the closest language could come to truth.
When true aura masters fought, fists and techniques were secondary things. The true battle occurred between two souls imposing their existence upon reality and upon one another.
Weak souls yielded instinctively.
Strong souls resisted, and transcendent souls reshaped the world around them simply by existing within it.
I could see understanding blooming within him, a kind of instinctive knowledge privy to few. But it didn’t surprise me, given the influence of his soul.
He started to release aura, and a sort of haze formed around himself, but not like before, his vessel didn’t diminish, if anything, it became more distinctive, then I felt his consciousness entering that haze, encompassing it, and taking control of it.
He didn’t use any skill.
What in the Lord of Ghosts’ name did I just witness?
Just who was this monster?
“I think I get it.” He said in a whisper, bright eyes looking to the side, but not really looking.
“Aura is a declaration of existence.”